Her green eyes were all innocence. “Keira isn’t twenty-one. Would I really take her to a place that might corrupt her innocence?”
“Yes, you would.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “And I don’t see Sloan volunteering for that sort of thing, either.”
“Brother, you constantly underestimate me. It will be as good for Sloan to get out of her shell as it will be for Callie. Now, run along. I have things well in hand.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” But he recognized a losing battle when he saw one. Carrigan would do what she wanted, despite his wishes. She always did. The only saving grace of the whole clusterfuck was that his sister had perfected getting in and out of these places without being caught. There was no reason to think her perfect record would be ruined tomorrow. No reason except that nothing had gone right in recent memory. He rose. “Be careful, Carrigan. Please.”
She opened her mouth like she was going to deliver a flippant reply and then closed it. “I always am.”
It would have to do. He paused to ruffle her hair like he used to when they were kids, her outraged shriek music to his ears. He ducked out of the attic and headed to his room. There was a lot to accomplish today. If he couldn’t ferret out Callie’s secret, the least he could do was keep pulling at the string of information about the identity of Brendan Halloran’s killer.
Chapter Fourteen
When she’d agreed to spent time with Teague’s sisters, Callie had anticipated a spa day or something equally relaxing. She’d said yes because she needed that relaxation desperately. Instead, she was near Fenway Park, being towed through the front door of what looked like a warehouse. She glanced at the two younger women who’d been introduced as Keira and Sloan—more sisters—but they didn’t look the least bit surprised to find themselves in a club packed with gyrating bodies with music so loud she could feel it in her blood.
Carrigan led the way around the dance floor and up a set of rickety-looking stairs. She grinned at the man guarding the top, leaning forward to speak directly in his ear, her hands resting on his chest. Callie couldn’t hear his laugh, but she was grateful when he stepped back and allowed them through the door. Inside, it was moderately quieter—at least the point where she could almost hear herself think. She turned to Carrigan. “This isn’t what I had in mind.”
“Maybe not, but it’s what you need.” She turned and strode over to the bar on the back wall, manned by a woman who could barely be seen over the counter.
“Why don’t you sit down? You look a little shell-shocked.” Keira guided her to a U-shaped couch built into the wall. It afforded a small amount of privacy, more than she’d expected because this room was only half-full.
She shot the woman a look. “Are you even old enough to drink?”
“My ID says I am.” She gave a cheeky grin and dropped down next to Callie, dragging Sloan behind her. “This is great. Carrigan never lets me tag along when she slips her leash.”
Things started to fall into place. This wasn’t about her at all—this was about Carrigan. She couldn’t even blame the woman for using any excuse she could come up with to find a legitimate escape from the gilded cage she lived in. Callie knew all about that, being how she was trapped in one of her own. She relaxed back into the seat. She’d been considering making her excuses and getting out of here, but it was the least she could do to stick around for a little while longer. She might not be free in any sense of the word, but it wouldn’t hurt to let these other women have a little taste of it.
Carrigan reappeared with four shots in her hands. “Let’s start this night off right.”
Oh dear God, this is going to go sideways fast. But she’d already decided to stay, so she took the glass and held it gingerly between her fingers. Carrigan sat across from her, next to Sloan. “Here’s to the men who love us, the losers who have lost us, and the lucky bastards who have yet to meet us.”
Keira laughed. “Hear, hear!”
They took their shots, and Callie didn’t miss the sick look on Sloan’s face. Apparently the woman wasn’t much of a drinker—or a partier, since she looked a half a second from bolting. It was enough to make Callie want to hug her, or offer some meaningless words of comfort. Carrigan must have noticed as well, because she put her arm around her sister in a half hug. “I know this isn’t your choice of a good time, but you need to stretch your boundaries a little.”
“For real, Sloan. You’re in danger of becoming that weird sister in the attic who only haunts the halls at night.”